Deleted Ichabbie Scenes from Kindred Spirits
by sleepyheadfan20
Summary: Two scenes that should have been in the episode or something similar to them. Enjoy. :)


Part 1 and Part 2. Enjoy. :)

* * *

 **Part 1: Welcome Home**

Crane sat down at the table. Abbie held her hand out for him. He dabbed the bit of blood with a paper towel. She stared at his fingers as he wrapped the band aid around the cut. She closed her eyes for a brief second. His fingers felt nice. She missed him.

After he was done, her eyes reopened. She glanced at him only to catch him staring at her. She couldn't look away, didn't want to. What if he disappeared, or she found out this wasn't real, that she was still in the Catacombs? He lifted her hand while he still kept her eyes. His breath tickled her skin. He kissed her palm. Her eyes fluttered.

"Welcome home, Abbie."

"Welcome home, Crane."

* * *

 **Part 2: Restoration**

"Checkmate." Abbie smiled.

Crane shook his head, pushed his beer away. "I'll have you know, Leftenant, that I was not on my 'A-game' as you so put it earlier. I was quite distracted."

She finished his beer. "Please."

"You please."

"Please."

She arranged the chess pieces to where they were originally and slid the board in the middle of the table.

"Are we calling it a night?" he said.

"Tonight, yeah. We'll play again tomorrow." She traced the symbol she drew earlier when Crane went to get her a band aid.

She didn't tell him about it yet. Didn't know how. She still dealt with her trauma, since she's been back. Yet, she was just about ready to share bits and pieces. What if he thought she was crazy though? He's been supportive of her so far; she wanted to talk to him about everything, but she feared his judgment about her broken side. She judged mama's broken side when she was younger. Abbie never said anything to mama, but she'd always look at her like she was batshit crazy. It hurt mama. Both of them knew that. What if Crane did that to her?

"Are you alright, Leftenant?" His eyes flicked to her moving finger.

"I'm fine."

"Leftenant."

"Crane. Not tonight."

"Abbie—"

"I said no."

He looked away from her.

"I just… I can't tell you everything right now."

He grabbed her hand. "You are not meant to suffer alone."

"Why were you distracted?"

"During our game, I noticed your finger moved in a pattern. I couldn't help but wonder if it was an effect from being in the Catacombs."

Her hand flew into her lap. "It's nothing."

Crane opened his mouth to say something but didn't; he sighed, twisted his bottle cap on the table.

"What, Crane?"

"I know you well, Leftenant. I understand that you are having quite a trying time after your traumatic experience and do not wish to disclose yet. However, I get the sense you are hiding something else as well. What are you so afraid of?"

"Want another beer?" She walked into the kitchen.

He followed her. "Why are you deflecting?"

She handed him a bottle and left. He put it on the counter, followed her out.

"I do not want a beer, Leftenant."

She turned to him. "What do you want then?"

He scooted his chair in front of her and sat down. He held her waist. "I want my partner to tell me the truth. Sometimes, I believe you've been purposefully hiding from me. Why?"

She averted her eyes.

"Leftenant."

Her eyes stayed to the floor.

"Abigail."

They remained there.

"Grace."

She looked at him.

His hand brushed her cheek, ran down her arm to hold her hand. "What is it, my boon?"

She sighed. "I thought mama was crazy when I was little. She talked to herself, went to all kinds of places, did weird things. I didn't get it. But when I was in the Catacombs, I understood. She was trying to hold on and did whatever she could to stay sane. It was like that for me. I talked to you. We played chess. "

"It's alright, Abbie."

"I judged her. I didn't try to understand."

"You were young. How were you supposed to?"

"I wish I had."

"You didn't know what to do. You were a child."

"What if you don't understand? What if you judge me?"

They played with each other's fingers. She couldn't look at him anymore. He pulled her closer, his legs on either side of her. Their foreheads met as her fingers fiddled with the hair at his neck. He took them to kiss her hands. She messed with his beard.

"My spirit, you have seen me at my weakest moments: when Henry and Katrina died, when I first discovered I had a son, when Abraham made me feel like nothing that day we found the sword, when I was lonely during the holidays and missed my prior life." He touched her cheek. "You have been there for me throughout the most trying times. You have seen me broken and have carried me until I was restored. It's my turn to give this all back to you. Let me restore you. Let me see your brokenness. Trust me."

She sat on his thigh, laid her head on his shoulder. Her nose and lips pressed into his neck while her wet eyelashes flitted against his skin. As she put her legs on his other thigh and held on to his waist, he wrapped one arm around her and slid the other through her hair. She was a little less broken.

After he wiped her face and kissed her cheeks, she passed him a small smile.

"Thank you, Ichabod."

He kissed her forehead. "I do not mind in the slightest."

She put her hands on his cheeks. She knew she should get out of his lap, that they had already crossed the line and weren't sure if they were ready for that territory, but she stayed. Couldn't move herself. Crane didn't move either. Her thumb brushed his lips. She didn't admit this to him, but in the Catacombs, she often wondered what his lips were like. Were they soft or dry? Would they kiss her slow or fast? It turned out his lips were soft, and he kissed her slow. Then he stopped.

"Perhaps we shouldn't, Leftenant. I feel as though I'm taking advantage of your vulnerable state."

She got up and straddled his lap. "Kiss me."

He shook his head. "It isn't proper. This is not how I intended for us to make love to each other."

"You mean you want me to be a whole person before this happens. All better." She undid his buttons. "You wanted me broken, Crane. Remember? In pieces. I don't want you to have me when I'm perfect. I may not fit together the same anymore, but I'll be okay. I'm okay with this. "

She kissed his neck, rubbed down his chest.

"Leftenant?"

"What, Crane?" She kissed his eyebrows, lips. Looked at him.

"Can I at least carry you to the sofa? You may be comfortable there."

"Restore me right here. In this chair."

He leaned in to kiss her again. It was a little faster now, a little more rushed. Tongues crossed, sighs released, hands slipped through hair. Abbie stood back up to remove her clothes, but Crane stopped her. He stood up, carefully discarded her shirt. She took off his. They took turns peeling off the other's clothing. As they did so, they kissed skin. Abbie kissed his scar; Crane kissed the hollow in her neck; Abbie kissed his hip bone; Crane kissed her lower back.

When they were naked, Abbie held up one finger. She ran to one of the drawers, searched through it. She found a small square pack. Then she walked back to him, holding it up.

"To be safe."

He nodded. They put it on him together. He sat back in the chair and helped Abbie straddle him. They moaned when she shifted into both their comfortable spots. He slouched a little bit, so that she was able to move how she wanted.

"Take what you want," he said.

She kissed his lips. "Maybe the sofa is best."

He gripped her thighs before carefully standing. They could still feel each other. Abbie laid her head on his shoulder, arms around his neck, as he carried her to the sofa.

"Wait. The floor."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "Are you certain?"

"The floor."

He nodded. He put her on the sofa, got the blanket off the arm of the couch. He spread it on the floor while she grabbed some pillows. Crane settled down on the floor in front of the cushions. Abbie was on top. He played with her curls.

"You are beautiful."

She kissed him. "So are you."

"Are you comfortable?" His hands skimmed up her back.

She closed her eyes. "Yeah. Are you?"

She opened them to see him nod. After she leaned down to kiss again, she moved. It was a steady pace. Rushing wouldn't happen here. She wanted to make sure they both enjoyed this, especially after being apart for so long. She closed her eyes, titled her head back toward the ceiling, released a small gasp. His hands held the side of her hips, assisting her in letting her take what she pleased. He let her have her moment. Observed her as she slanted her head to the left. He had an urge to grumble when she pressed herself further into him. He withheld though, gripped her a little tighter. This was about her, not him. He would throw himself aside even in this. She looked at him again, leaned over him a little further by digging her hands into the cushions above him.

"Crane…"

He had to keep from gasping. "Tell me."

"More of you."

He wasn't sure if he could give her anymore depth, but he found he could when she whimpered. As he pushed her into him, he found himself near tears. He could have been without her, could have lost her for good. Now, having himself immersed in her entire being filled him a light he didn't want to dim. Her thumbs wiped both his cheeks as she began to cry herself. He did the same for her while her hands imprinted in his chest. Her nails hid in his skin. Her pace quickened. His hands squeezed the side of her hips to push her as far as she could go. She wanted him to the very core just as he wanted her. He knew being melded together like this wasn't enough, would never be. But he got her as close to his essence as he could. It was vice versa. When she called his name during her climax, he knew he'd given her all that he could and that she had seized all she could from him. Feeling her throb was a restoration in itself. He felt all of her life: the good, the bad, everything in the middle.

Her ministrations didn't cease though. Crane restrained himself. It was extremely hard to resist. Abbie didn't want him to restrict himself, to deny himself anything.

"Ichabod. Don't."

It hurt Abbie that Crane held back. She wanted him to satisfy himself just as she did. They were equals, partners, in this together. It wasn't always about her just like it wasn't always about him. It was about them both, especially now. He gave her her moment already.

"Please," she said.

She was almost on the verge of another peak. Yet she needed to feel him, too. To know that she wasn't truly alone. As she kissed him, his moans vibrated down her throat. He finally climaxed, and Abbie didn't want his throb to go away either. She wanted to let it drum through her skin. Then she came again, saying his name as she fell on his chest. They caught their breath.

"Did you take what you wanted? Do you feel a little more restored?"

She looked at him, nodded.

"Why are you so quiet? Did I hurt you?" He traced her cheek.

"Don't do that. Don't refuse yourself. I get you were doing it for me. Thank you, but please don't."

"I'm sorry."

"I want you happy. You deserve to be happy. You can take from me, too. It works both ways."

"I'm sorry."

She kissed him. "We're partners, friends, now lovers. We're—"

"Better halves."

She kissed him again. "Better halves."

"I wish to do this again. I didn't get a chance to properly explore your body like I wanted."

She shook her head. "Please."

"You please."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Please."

"You please." He arranged his hands on her butt. Squeezed.

"Please."


End file.
